


Terms And Conditions

by variableIntroversion



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Honestly this is just gratuitous fluffy smut, I wanted a soft Bro and damn it I will have a soft Bro, M/M, Meaning he is not a piece of shit in this AU, No abuse, love making
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 18:53:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20765264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/variableIntroversion/pseuds/variableIntroversion
Summary: You definitely like it rough, just...maybe...Maybe you'd like it if he wasn't always going hard and fast. Maybe - and here's a really wild thought - you wouldn't mind if things were slow and soft. Maybe you'd like it (so many maybes), dare you say, even sweet.But Bro is not soft. He isn't slow. And he most definitely isn't sweet. You knew that, getting into this. But damn if you wouldn't mind a change of pace.





	Terms And Conditions

Maybe it was foolish of you to expect something different. Bro's always been rough around the edges, and never overly affectionate. Hell, make that barely averagely affectionate. When you started this thing with him several months ago (though it already feels like a lifetime), you didn't mind so much. You even enjoyed how he manhandled you; how he took charge and did as he pleased, and you were simply along for the mutually enjoyable ride.

It's not like you don't still enjoy that, too. You definitely like it rough, just...maybe...

Maybe you'd like it if he wasn't always going hard and fast. Maybe - and here's a really wild thought - you wouldn't mind if things were slow and soft. Maybe you'd like it (so many maybes), dare you say, even sweet.

But Bro is not soft. He isn't slow. And he most definitely isn't sweet. You knew that, getting into this. How could you not, after spending nineteen years living under the same roof? Every day spent living with Bro was another read page in the T's and C's, and you signed off on that shit with a flourish when the dotted line presented itself to you. You didn't expect him to act gentle and tender in bed, and it was blind hope to think he'd possibly show a little more affection outside of the bedroom, now that that was frequently shared territory between the two of you.

That doesn't mean you don't try for it, though.

He doesn't nudge you away whenever you sit closer than usual on the futon. So close that your sides brush and your shoulder presses against his. Which is cool, it's a step, but it's not like he tends to reciprocate much. He just sits there like he always does, barely a glance your way, and you try not to feel like a needy kid again.

The next time you wind up pinned between him and a mattress, you try kissing him sweetly. For a thrilling moment you think he's caught on, because his lips work gently against yours and they don't seem to be in a rush. You almost melt into the pillow before his teeth suddenly find your skin, and you jolt at the nip he delivers.

He smirks into your mouth, wicked and eager, and you know that this round is a lost cause. You don't even have the energy to try and stop him from strolling out of your room by the end of it, too thoroughly fucked and worn out to try. He always leaves after sex, and you feel like a pussy for wishing that he'd stay.

_"Oh, but Dave, why don't you talk to him?"_ Some theoretical fucker asks. Are you fucking crazy, you'd ask right back. Because, in case this theory-spouting lunatic forgot, you are a Strider. And Striders are made of poor emotional communication and emotional constipation.

Besides, what the hell would you even say? _"Hey bro-dad, I know we're just two dudes casually getting it on, but would you mind making sweet, sweet love to me this time?"_ Hell no. You'd rather just accept your fate and try to forget about it; put that shit out of your mind and enjoy what you can get.

You manage to fool yourself into believing that what you're getting is good enough for a while, too. Another month drags on and you focus on how good it feels to be at the center of Bro's attention, pinned under that intense gaze as he has his way with you and you eagerly let him. You focus on how good your body feels during every heated encounter, and how satisfying it is to know he's enjoying himself too. You almost believe your own bullshit.

You sure as hell ain't in the mood to believe it today, though. Today has unapologetically and excessively sucked at every turn, and you are officially Done. Bad enough, having to get up early for exams. But cliché of all clichés, it had to be raining. And some dickmunch had to fuck around with a lighter and accidentally set off the smoke alarm.

Getting soaked as you stood outside just to find out it was something so stupid, then having to finish your paper sopping wet in an overly air-conditioned gymnasium, was not. Fucking. Fun. Continuing to be sopping wet because you walk to and from school is also not fun, and you don't even try to hide the fact that you're feeling pissy.

You close the apartment door behind yourself louder than necessary and toss your backpack aside with all the care of a cat that's lost interest in a dead mouse. You kick off your shoes and begin dragging your wet clothes off on the spot, shivering as you start to dump them in a pile. You're cold and tired and, frankly, you are at the end of your rope.

When you notice Bro watching you from where he's lounged out on the futon with an all-too familiar smirk, the rose-tinted glasses you forced onto your own face shatter.

"No." You put as much calm force into the word as possible, and you don't even bother to pick up your clothes from their sopping little mound on the floor. In nothing but your boxers and your shades, you flash step to your room and slam that door behind you too, just for good measure.

Of course that doesn't actually stop him. You barely make it a step into your room before Bro practically materializes behind you, hot chest pressing up against your back and one strong arm looping around your waist to hold you in place. You didn't even hear him come in.

"You sure you don't want help warmin' up?" His breath tickles the back of your ear as he practically purrs the words out, his voice deep and growly and jegus dicks his hand is _already_ halfway down your boxers.

You barely even think, you just react. You grab his wrist like a vice and twist. It's not enough to actually hurt him, but you know it still _hurts_ because he starts and the arm around you loosens up. That's all you need to spin around and shove him against the door, gripping his shoulder with your free hand to pin him down. The motion's enough to make your shades slide down your nose somewhat, so you know he's getting the full brunt of what probably amounts to a hurt-filled glare, but you somehow can't find it in you to give a shit right now.

"I'm not in the mood for a rough fuck just to get dropped like yesterday's news, Bro. Now fuck off." Just to emphasize your point, you suddenly let go of him and turn your back. It's the sign of a definitively closed conversation among Striders; a motion that says _"even if I leave myself open to an attack from behind, I'm so confident that I've got the authority here that you'll listen and back the hell off"_.

You've done it maybe twice in the past, with varying levels of success. As you stalk towards your bed, you start to think that this will be one of the more effective attempts. But of course you're wrong. You reach the edge of the mattress just before you feel a warm hand on your shoulder. Bro is lucky he taught you restraint from a young age, because that's the only thing that saves him from a reflexive punch to the face.

"Is that how you feel about it?" You can hear the frown in Bro's voice, but you resolutely keep your eyes focused forwards. This isn't how you wanted this conversation to go. Fuck, you didn't even want this conversation. Or, a part of you did, but definitely not right now when your shitty mood is liable to ruin everything.

"Isn't that what happens every time?" It's almost cathartic to finally point out how absent he is with affection, as much as it just makes you feel bitter and vulnerable. Bro's fingers twitch slightly on your shoulder, and for a moment you think he'll just pull away. Instead his chest winds up at your back again, and you can't decide if you want to lean into his warmth or jerk away.

"You should've said somethin', lil' man." He presses an open-mouth kiss to your neck, tongue hot against your chilled skin, and you tense slightly as you wait for his teeth to join the mix. They don't, and he trails his mouth along the column of your neck with uniform gentleness that has you melting against him.

"What was I supposed to say? 'Hey Bro, maybe we can try being soft and shit the next time we fuck'?" There isn't nearly as much venom in the mumbled words as there could have been, but in your defense it isn't that easy to snap at him when he's mouthing at the skin just under your jaw so softly. A shiver completely unrelated to the cold runs down your back, and his arms tighten around you as if to answer.

"Pretty much. You think I wouldn't listen?" He's kissing along the back of your neck now, occasionally drifting a little higher to nuzzle into your hair. It's like whiplash to suddenly be touched like this. You were half convinced Bro couldn't even be tender, but there really isn't another word for the way he's treating you right now.

"Didn't think you'd be into it." You shrug. The fact that you're inordinately pleased that the motion doesn't shake him off tells you you might have put the bar a little low here.

"Well that makes you wrong about two things." He murmurs the words into your ear, low and husky in the way that always makes your breath catch.

Before you can ask, he turns you around and gives a firm push to your shoulders. The back of your knees meet the edge of the mattress and you fall onto your bed with a startled huff. It wasn't quite like being thrown, but it was still sudden. And now that you can see Bro's broad smirk, your heart sinks with a disappointing expectation.

"I ain't gonna fuck you." He says it so matter-of-factly and you want to crawl under the blanket. Would he seriously rather go jerk it alone than treat you gentle in bed? What kind of fucked up mind game is he- oh.

Bro's slipped his shades off, and suddenly that smirk has shifted from devilish to fond. He spares half a second to set his glasses to the side, and then he's sliding on top of you like it's as natural as breathing. When his lips meet yours, it's a slow, languid kind of kiss that doesn't feel hurried or purposeful. Like he's kissing you just for the sake of kissing you, and it feels fucking wonderful.

You close your eyes as you lean into it, tangling one hand in his hair until his hat tumbles off. You don't pull or grip hard at him this time, and you're practically petting the guy by the time you brave parting your lips. This is the part where there's inevitably teeth, usually nipping or tugging at your own lip before he sucks until it's swollen. You brace yourself for it, and again get proven wrong when all he does is slide his tongue in to gently toy with yours.

It's all startlingly sweet and borderline romantic, and you groan like a motherfucker because _yes_. _Fuck yes_, this is exactly what you need.

Bro's lips twitch slightly at the sound and you just know the bastard is laughing at you. You vengefully tug at his hair almost on reflex, then remember yourself and quickly smooth a hand over it in some kind of peace offering. He hums into your mouth, and he must understand because there's no rough turn taken throughout the rest of the kiss.

When you finally stop to breathe, he presses his forehead against yours and you both pant in the same air. Your fingers are still threading through his hair by the time you start to recover, and he makes no attempt to move away. Exactly the opposite actually, because suddenly his lips are attached to your neck again and your head falls back to accommodate him.

It's strange to have Bro kissing and sucking over your skin without any (literal) bite. Every time his mouth lands on a sensitive spot that makes your toes curl and your back arch slightly, you freeze by a fraction with nervous anticipation. And every time you do, he pauses to lave over the spot with his tongue and gently suck on the skin until you're almost squirming before he moves on. By the fifth spot, you've grown used to the pattern, and he rewards you by sliding down your chest to lap at a nipple.

You bite your lip and gulp in a breath as he tongues at the bud. Every soft suck and kiss sends a tingle down your spine and soon you've got both hands in his hair, gripping and stroking and lightly tugging as you try to keep your cool. You can feel him smile against your skin again, but this time you can't even bring yourself to care. It feels too damn good to care.

You're fully hard by the time he moves on to the other nipple, but you don't try to rush him as he gives it the same treatment. You want to drag this out for as long as possible, long as he'll let you. As much as his words implied this wouldn't be a one-time thing, you can't be fully sure, and you'll be damned if you aren't gonna savor every moment of this while you have it.

"Gettin' in your own head, lil' man." Bro's chest vibrates against your stomach as he speaks, and fuck if that doesn't go straight to your dick. He reaches up and gives the softest tug to your hair imaginable, then smooths his fingers over the same spot as if to mirror the way you've been stroking his head for the past five minutes now.

Not a single thing could've stopped you from turning to press a kiss to his palm right then, and he answers by brushing his thumb over your cheek. It's the most tender damn thing you've ever experienced, and your whole body thrums with the sheer fucking glee it causes. Somehow, realizing that Bro's glove is missing only adds to it all, because that means he's conscientious of how rough the leather can feel and cares enough to avoid that.

"There we go." He mumbles, and just like that, his mouth is back on you. He kisses down along your happy trail, breath tickling the fine hairs until you can't help but twitch over the sensation. Then his hand draws away from your cheek and he slides your boxers down smooth as anything, waiting patiently for the split second it takes for you to lift your hips before getting them off.

It occurs to you suddenly that aside from your shades, you're completely naked in front of him, and the only clothes Bro's lost are his hat, gloves, and glasses. And that just ain't fair.

You sit up enough to tug at Bro's shirt, and he obliges instantly. You feel another little thrill as he tugs the polo over his head and goes for his belt without being asked once. The only requests in bed he usually answers to are _'harder, faster, more please'_, so it's a pleasant change of pace.

As soon as he's threadbare, Bro leans back over you and rests his thumb against the edge of your shades. He pauses long enough for you to nod, and you can't help a small smile over the gesture. As soon as he turns back to you from where he twists to set your shades on the nightstand, you pull him into another sweet kiss with a hand on the back of his neck. He rolls with it like it's the most natural thing in the world, framing your shoulders in his hands as he leans in to give you exactly what you want. You aren't sure where he got the manual on how to press all the right buttons to turn you into putty, but you sure as hell aren't complaining.

He doesn't go far when you break the kiss, lips brushing against yours when he speaks. "This what you wanted?" His eyes are hooded as they stare down into yours. You stare right back, searching for any traces of judgement or challenge and finding none of it. 

"Mhmm." You kiss him again, just briefly, then lean back more so you can see his whole face. "This cool with you? Like, are you into this or-" He cuts you off with another kiss, and who are you to argue with that?

"Take a wild guess." He murmurs the words against your mouth, not even really ending the kiss to speak, and he pulls your free hand down so you can feel the considerable hard-on between his legs. You hum almost curiously as you ghost your fingers over it, as if you aren't intimately familiar with every inch already. The breathy sigh Bro lets out encourages you to hold a little more firmly, and he lets you get in a good few strokes before pulling back.

He scoops his jeans off the floor, and your lips quirk up slightly when you see what he fishes out of one pocket. Of course he's got lube on him. It's like his version of spiders; there's always a bottle of lube no more than a few yards away at any given time. The man could be going to mass on Easter Sunday (fat chance, even for irony's sake) and still have some on him. Not that you're actually complaining about it, 'cause it's hells of convenient right now.

He slicks up a couple fingers and does you the courtesy of giving it a few seconds to warm on his skin before reaching between your legs. You return the favor by spreading them and tilting your hips up more so it's not an awkward angle. He spends a moment just circling your entrance, slicking the skin around it until you tense briefly to hold back a small thrust. Then he takes the cue and starts working the first finger in, slow and smooth enough that you take it easily.

Bro's free hand slides up and down your side as he pumps the digit into you. It's the kind of touch that he usually uses to help you relax when you're hopelessly worked up, but right now it's more like he's trying to melt you into the bed. You stretch around his second finger without a hitch and try not to happy sigh, because there's a limit to how much you can show you're enjoying this before it gets embarrassing.

Or at least, that's what you tell yourself right up until he crooks his fingers just so, and then you're swallowing back a moan while your traitorous hips arch up anyways. Bro still smirks the same as he always does after finding your prostate, but he doesn't jab or grind the pads of his fingers against it to work you into a frenzy. He isn't finger-fucking you, he's- he-

Holy shit, that's what he meant when he said he wasn't fucking you. He's making gog-damn love to you, and that thought _does_ get a moan out of you. Just a brief one, heavy and thick at the back of your throat while your head spins at the realization. Bro "hyper dominant jackass" Strider is making love to you, and you are incredibly weak to the idea of it.

Of course he ruins the moment by huffing a laugh at you. You try to scowl at him for it, but he gently massages that spot inside of you again and you're gone, head tilted back as you breathe out another moan.

"Now you're gettin' it." He murmurs the words against your throat from where he's leaned down to kiss at it again. You don't dare nod in case it makes him move away, so you settle for lacing your fingers in his hair again and stroking a few times. His breath his hot against your neck when he chuckles again, but he follows it up with another onslaught of open-mouth kisses that effectively erase any ill-will left in you.

The fingers inside of you work in deep before drawing out to the tips, thrusting back in with a little more force to test your readiness. You're completely relaxed around them, only starting to clench and squirm after Bro pumps them into you a few more times and bumps your prostate once or twice.

Then he's pulling his hand back and nudging your legs apart until he can kneel comfortably between your thighs. It's not the best position for this, you think, because he'll have to hold your legs up to get into you easily, and that'll block him from leaning over you. Which you don't want, almost as much as you don't really want him to see your face and whatever expressions you make during gentler sex.

"Can we- Uh, shit..." Bro pauses when you speak up, head tilted just so to show he's listening. You roll onto your stomach, minding that your foot doesn't catch him anywhere, and slip your legs back between his. He shuffles to accommodate you, which is fantastic because you don't think you could deal with the embarrassment right now if he denied the change in position. You're already red-faced as it is, feeling more vulnerable on your stomach than any other time you've had sex. Ironic, considering this is the sweetest Bro's ever been with you.

He keeps up that trend when he slides his hands along your back, starting from your hips and working all the way up to your shoulders. His weight settles there as he lines himself up. Not fully - you know what that feels like and the air hasn't been crushed out of your lungs, so you know he's balancing on his knees - but enough that you feel secure where you are.

"Yer damn beautiful like this. Make such a pretty sight for me...while I take you." Bro's chest settles against yours as he pushes in, and you can feel the vibrations from his rumbling voice. It gets strained when he bottoms out, breaking up the words, and you quiver slightly with arousal and pride.

It's damn rewarding to know that he really is just as into this as you are, despite how different it is from the other times you've gotten down and dirty. You hope it'll be a more regular occurrence now.

"C'mon baby, sing for me." Oh fuck, he's using pet names now. You don't think you could have helped the shaky moan that jumps out of you, whether he'd accompanied his words with a small thrust or not.

Once Bro starts moving, he doesn't stop. He's going slow but firm for now, drawing out until just the head is buried before sinking right back in. With the way he's leaned over you, he's almost at the angle to rub you just right, and you remedy that with a small lift of your hips. You pant a little when his cock drags across your sweet spot, then claw at the sheets when he does it again.

Bro's leaning on one arm to keep from crushing you, but he's taking full advantage of his free hand to stroke over your sides, down your back, up into your hair, under your head to cup your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut with the last one and you groan quietly when he feathers a kiss over that sensitive spot right where the back of your neck and shoulder meet. He's treating you softer than you could have ever hoped, and you're soaking it all up like a sponge.

The build-up is slow for the both of you. Bro picks up the pace gradually, but even when he seems to settle at steady, quicker thrusts, it's not nearly as fast as you know he can be. His breath has grown a little more labored, fanning over your shoulders where he's been trailing warm kisses for the past however-long, and you're starting to arch up to meet every buck with one of your own.

One of Bro's hands slides under you, gently tugging at your hip until you're holding your lower half up on your own. It's a good angle for him to sink in just that little bit deeper, definitely still hitting your sweet spot, but the real prize is when his hand wraps around your dick. You moan a little louder as he starts stroking you, moving counter to the thrusts from his hips so his hand slides down every time your body's rocked forwards.

You're close in no time from there, teetering on the brink with sloppy gasps and hitched breaths as you try to balance keeping quiet with breathing. Bro nuzzles the back of your neck, kissing his way up to the back of your ear. His voice is rough with need, dropped low in that way that means he's close too, and you can still feel the rumble against your back when he murmurs. "Come for me, darlin'."

Your breath catches and you last for one, two more thrusts and then that's it, you're gone. Your whole body shudders and so does the loud moan that ekes out of you. You rock your hips through it and somewhere in the back of your pleasured haze, you have enough of a mind to clench around Bro. He grunts and moves a little faster, chasing his orgasm in earnest. It's not long before he's tensed up with a long groan, pressing in deep as he comes undone.

The arm under you shifts to wrap around your stomach, so when Bro rolls to the side you're brought along with him. He pulls out slowly and both of you seem to forget to breathe for a second, and then it's back to your regularly scheduled post-coital panting.

He's got you tucked up against his chest again, holding you snug with that arm, and fuck, how did you ever manage without this? You can feel him as he breathes, you can feel his heartbeat as it tries to calm down from the pleasure high. His breath ghosts over the top of your head and his warmth is still seeping into you, and it's the best feeling in the world. Maybe you're being a little dramatic, hopped up on endorphins, but you don't think so. After-sex cuddling is almost as good as the actual sex, and you hope Bro realizes that you're never gonna let him skimp on it after this.

"Fuck, I shoulda offered a condom." Bro's mumbling brings you out of your head, and you realize that he's lost in his own. He does that occasionally after sex, usually making notes to himself of things to try differently the next time. It's your turn to laugh a little, and you wriggle around to face him. He's the closest he ever gets to pouting, so you lean up and kiss the frown away before settling with your foreheads pressed together.

"Nah, you're good. I needed a shower anyway." Originally to warm up, truth be told, but now you're plenty warm and actually do need to get clean. Bro seems to take note of this as his eyes skate over you. He hums in the back of his throat and starts pulling away, and you want to knock your head against a wall. You just had to open your mouth, didn't you?

"That makes two of us." He makes it sound obvious, which it kind of is if you think about it for a moment. You still don't quite put two and two together until his hand grips your arm and hefts you upright as if you weigh nothing. "I'm not carryin' you to the shower, princess." Bro lifts a pointed eyebrow at you, and you hurry to your feet with less grace than you'd have liked.

The fact that he stands up with you and slides his hand up to your shoulder instead of letting go makes you a little ecstatic, and okay, yeah, you really need to raise the bar a little here. That doesn't mean that you aren't damn pleased when Bro follows you into the bathroom though, and you stay that way when he crowds into the shower stall without a second thought.

There's no groping or shower sex, which is probably just as well when you two can barely turn around without bumping into each other. There is an indiscriminate amount of kissing however, which is absolutely fine by you. Great, in fact. Fantastic.

"Your bed's a mess. You're sleepin' with me tonight." Bro drops that while you're toweling off, which is a mercy because it means you can hide your shocked blink and immediate grin as you rub down your hair. He's sure as hell not wrong, though, because your sheets are kind of soaked with rain water and various bodily fluids. For once you're glad that the old washing machines take so long.

"Yeah, okay." Doesn't mean you don't try to play it cool, of course.

Soon enough you're lounging on the futon in nothing but your boxers, flipping through channels while Bro stands in the kitchen, placing an order for takeout. He comes back with a bottle of apple juice and a can of orange soda once he's done, and you don't bother fully stopping the little smile that slips onto your face.

He returns the look for a second before grabbing your arm again and hauling you upright. You barely have a second to complain before you feel him settling down behind you, and you're dropped onto his chest like a rock. It's nice, you almost think, until he drops the fridge-cold apple juice right onto your bare stomach. You yelp and jolt upright, snatching the bottle off your poor fucking thighs to the tune of Bro's muffled laughter.

"You're such a dick." You groan. You get your revenge by flopping back with a little extra _oomph_, feeling satisfied with the resulting grunt as your body pushes all the air out of Bro's lungs.

"Little shit." He mutters. The freezing metal of his soda can meets the back of your neck for a second, then your elbow meets his ribs more on reflex than anything, and you both call a truce before things get out of hand.

Once you've actually settled and stopped trying to one-up each other, it's nice. The TV drones in the background while you sip at your drinks. Bro's got an arm around your waist, loosely pinning you to him, and the rain rattles peacefully against the roof.

"I'm gonna pin your ass to the bed if you try to leave after sex again, you know." You bump your head against Bro's shoulder, gently this time since it's just for emphasis. It's a bit of an empty threat since you both know he can leave you way too shaky to have a hope of carrying out your threat, and he lets out a little amused huff that tells you he knows as much.

"Alright." His arm tightens around you for a moment, and you take it as a promise.

The next time you wind up sweat-soaked and panting for breath in bed, you find out that it was. 

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are highly welcome <3


End file.
